


february, the seventeenth

by bluewhistlingthrush



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Meandering, jalice secret santa exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluewhistlingthrush/pseuds/bluewhistlingthrush
Summary: It's almost comical, how about every huge event in Jasper's immortal life falls on a Christmas. So, of course, when the most important day of his life becomes February, the seventeenth, it's a damn sweet surprise. Written for the Jalice Secret Santa exchange on Tumblr.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	february, the seventeenth

**Author's Note:**

> For o-foramuse-of-fire, as the Jalice Secret Santa exchange gift. Belated Merry Christmas!

_1863_

_Galveston_

He sits on his bunk, most of the day- tense, wired, and slightly nostalgic. The general says there's a war coming, but mother sent a stocking stuffed with homemade toffee yesterday- and as much as he tries to hide it, he can't help but smile when he thinks of her. Aged, wrinkled, and careworn, and yet the kindest, most compassionate person he's ever met. The only person in the world that he loves.

She's living better now. The wages are meagre, but they are enough to support a single mother who has no slaves, servants, or anyone to cook for. That's some consolation for him- if he has to fight for something he doesn't believe in, at least there's something good coming out of it.

A whistle blows. Summons. Jasper drops his toffee, sighs, then stands and sprints to the fields. Duty calls, and Christmas, after all, is just another day.

_1884_

_Monterrey_

Maria rages. The coven in Santa Fe had a gifted one, and took down quite a few before Jasper burnt him.

They lost thirteen that day, the most yet in three decades.

While Maria, the bitch, worries for her reputation as a leader, Jasper is afraid they won't survive if Denver decided to attack. There's no use telling her, though- she'd just spit in his face and lock him up and won't let him feed for a month, so it's up to him to manage their defenses.

He jumps up a tree. There's lights up town- Christmas lights, he realizes. And he can hear voices singing and if he squints, he can see a few children out in the streets, building snowmen.

If he tilts his head just right and closes his eyes, he can picture himself doing the same.

_1901_

_Dallas_

The fires are still burning.

He drops to the ground, trembling. The fever pitch of fighting is starting to lull, and the emotions overwhelm him, both foreign and his own.

Peter slides down next to him, eyes unfocused. It's that look he gets when he's blanking out, when he's having one of his stupid hunches.

Jasper isn't in the mood for that now. He's going through a time bad enough already. "The fuck, Peter?" he snaps, noticing, with mild irritation, the two new bite marks added to the patchwork that was his skin. "Blonde beauty again?"

"No." The other man looks at the sky, and it's like a dam bursting in his head- hope pours out of him for an instant, brief but overwhelming. "No, it's you."

"And?" asks Jasper, impatient now.

Peter glances at him, and this time, there's a slight smile on his face. Perceptive fool. "And a girl. Brunette. Short hair, extra-small, looks like she could be the second comin' of brightness itself."

"Do I kill her?" He sounds crude, probably, harsh- but then again, sensitivity doesn't get you through fifty years of war. "Does she kill me?"

Peter shakes his head. "She saves you, Major." When he grins again, it's a full smile. "You two are lying in the sun, together, hand in hand. Shining like the sun in Hawaii."

Jasper scoffs. "Like a friggin' diamond and a broken mirror, you mean?" He stands up, staring into the dancing flames. For a moment, he can almost imagine his face in there, burning, turning to ash. "Stop trying to find a way out of here, Peter. There isn't one."

Peter closes his eyes, and a helpless expression crosses his face. "Won't let yourself believe it, would you?" he whispers. "Now that ain't changing." He opens his eyes. "Yet." He blows at the fire, and it dies like a candle on a birthday cake. Then he smiles, and this time, it looks more like a grimace than anything else. "It's Christmas eve, Jasper. What say you to some blood?"

Jasper doesn't say anything. His thoughts race, and his emotions do, too, and it feels like he's going to fucking explode. "Peter?" he asks, staring off into the horizon. "You've never been wrong yet, have you?" Without waiting for an answer, he spins around, and stares the other man in the eye. His words almost catch in his throat- he's not used to showing vulnerability, never.

"Can things really get better for me?" he whispers.

_1933_

_Houston_

Jasper crouches, wired, snarling. And the _fucking_ newborn is trying to run and Peter is prepared to fight his best friend and all he can think is that it's not fires betrayal tastes of, it's ashes. He could kill them both if he wanted to. He should.

"Why?" he chokes out, when really, he wants to say a lot more, curse more, accuse him, kill him- he isn't thinking straight and he doesn't care- he bared his soul to his one friend in hell and all he gets in return is betrayal, it's a mate for a brother, a love for a friendship.

An escape. A way to live. To get out of the hell surrounding them both and those they kill and she who they follow.

And Peter knows he knows it.

Jasper laughs. It's a bitter laugh, jaded, cynical, and there's almost nothing remaining of that boy who once ate his mother's homemade toffee and kissed her head.

But there' s pain radiating through him and he's drowning in it and he's afraid that if he lets it get the better of him, he might just go for the kill and then live out the rest of his existence in this dark, dreadful world, and regret it for every moment of forever.

"Go," he whispers, and turns away, because it hurts to look into those stupid red eyes, too understanding for his liking. "Go!" he repeats, loudly, when no one makes a move. "Fuck the hell off, Peter, and take your stupid future and hope and fucking light away with you! Just- fucking go away."

The newborn whispers a thank-you. Jasper scoffs, and watches them go, his heart weighing a ton and sinking through his chest. He watches them till they're just tiny little specks in the horizon, and then he shudders and slides down the ground, and he wishes he could cry.

"Merry Christmas, Peter," he whispers into the thin air.

_1938_

_Chicago_

Three months after Peter and Charlotte rescue him from Maria's army, he celebrates his first Christmas in almost a century. Char decorates the tree and Pete finds a group of five delicious criminals, but there' s something missing.

_1944_

_Nashville_

"Do you see her still?" he asks casually, over the corpse of a dead woman. "That girl you talked about?"

Peter half-smiles, which looks terrifying. "Ever heard of destiny, Whitlock?"

_1946_

_New York_

"I have to go."

"We know."

That's literally all it takes. He hugs Peter, kisses Char's forehead, and heads off into the night.

_February 17, 1948_

_Philadelphia_

"You've kept me waiting a long time," she says.

It's instinct. He ducks his head, smiles, and replies, "I'm sorry, ma'am."

She laughs. It's a cute little laugh, tinkly, unlike Peter's outright bellow or Char's tone-deaf snorts.

"Come with me," she says, and she holds out her hand, and Jasper doesn't think- he takes it and he doesn't question what he's doing and he goes with the flow- it's destiny. She's destiny.

The most important day in his life, and it's not even a Christmas.


End file.
